


The Crane Prince

by rinsled05



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst and Feels, Arranged Marriage, F/F, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Lost Love, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 14:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15997457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinsled05/pseuds/rinsled05
Summary: He never knew a crane possessed the expressive ability to look as pained as Yuuri did that night. On the floor laid a quilt, glittering and unfinished, woven with Yuuri's own snow-white feathers. A birthday gift, made for Viktor.I told you not to look.A short Victuuri AU inspired by "Tsuru no Ongaeshi".





	The Crane Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dedica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dedica/gifts).



> A Victuuri Summer Loving gift that combines the prompts Fantasy AU and Arranged Marriage/Royalty AU. I hope you like it!

It’s a silly thing, really, royal weddings. All pomp and show, glitter and glamor.

Viktor’s used to the idea, of course, with the smiling and the waving and the kissing of babies. Being paraded around in a carriage like a prized horse at the local fair. He doesn’t like it, but he’s used to it.

Mila seems just as accustomed, her smile shining bright as the diamonds that hang around her neck. The daughter of a neighboring kingdom, her beauty is unparalleled. Ballads have been sung about the striking green of her eyes, the pink bow of her lips, the perfect set of lines and curves that make up her lean frame. And when she steps out of the carriage, a gloved hand sliding into Viktor’s, her tresses burn a fiery red under the noon sun.

But Mila is not the one he loves.

They present themselves at the balcony overlooking the square, waving as their people shout and cheer. _Long live the prince_ , they roar. _Long live the new princess_.

“Out of ten, how much do you want to get out of here?” Mila says under her breath.

Viktor turns; Mila’s smile hasn’t faltered.

“Twelve,” he says, white teeth flashing.

Mila laughs.

They’ll become fast friends, Viktor is sure of that. But this is a political marriage—no more, no less. There is no love to be found between them, not even in the cracks of Viktor’s broken heart.

After the crowd disperses, after their parents congratulate each other on a job well done, they’re left to wander the castle grounds together, Viktor acting as Mila’s guide. On Mila’s visit—her first and only before the ceremony—she took a liking to the gardens on the west side of the palace. A place that stirs up memories in Viktor, bittersweet and unwanted. But it’s the first day of the rest of her life in this castle, so he takes her there, to give her some sense of familiarity in an otherwise alien new home.

Well-trimmed bushes line the stone path up to the garden, flowers open and welcoming at the entrance. The garden entertains a variety of visitors, ranging from wild rabbits and sparrows, to butterflies and honeybees. Encountering the little creatures come as no surprise to Viktor.

But the last thing he expects to find is a single crane in the pond.

Viktor is struck by its feathers, the way the dark bustle contrasts with plumage as white and pristine as freshly fallen snow. He has only seen such colors on a crane once – when he made a choice that was to become his greatest act of folly.

Their eyes meet, and the crane turns away, as if abashed. Viktor can’t tell if it’s excitement or guilt that makes his heart leap up his throat, but for the first time in long while, he’s feeling something again. Something beyond the raw emptiness that has gnawed at the edges of his soul since that fateful night.

“Goodness,” Mila says, hands to her mouth. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s perfect,” Viktor sighs.

This time, it’s Mila who turns to him with a smile. “Is that…?” She trails off, noting the look on Viktor’s face. “It _is_.”

“Mila,” Viktor starts to protest, but his new bride is already shoving him toward the pond with startling strength.

“What are you waiting for?” she says. “ _Go_.”

Viktor swallows. Draws in a deep breath, then takes a step forward. The crane’s beady eyes are trained on him, long neck stretched tense and straight. Viktor sees the gears turning beneath the bright red crown, the hesitation in its movements. One sudden move, and it’s sure to take off.

No, not it. _He._

Viktor looks over his shoulder. “Mila, I don’t think—”

But Mila is gone. Probably snuck away while he had his back turned.

 _Helpful,_ Viktor thinks.

Inhaling, he ignores his thundering heart and resumes his slow approach. He’s almost at the pond—just a few feet more—but the crane moves then, wings spreading wide, a stark flash of white amidst the greenery.

“No, wait!” Viktor reaches out, hand stretching for—

(“ _Yuuri-! Please, it was a mistake, I didn’t think…”_

_Feathers fall, brown eyes shining in the darkness._

_“I told you not to look.”)_

The crane pauses. Then it folds its wings in, tucks them against its sides.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, out loud this time, and the bird's thick chest rises, feathers bristling. “It _is_ you, isn’t it?”

The crane looks away, doesn’t respond. For a moment, Viktor thinks he might be mistaken, that he may just be imploring to a bird that doesn’t understand his words—doesn’t know him—until, finally, it happens.

Water surges up from the pond, swirls around the crane to form a glowing curtain of blue. The silhouette shifts and stretches, from the thin shape of a bird to the lithe figure of a man. When the curtain falls, Viktor recognizes the features instantly: the patterned garb of those who hail from the mystical lands of the East, the silken dark hair that he used to run his fingers through. The honey-brown eyes that stared at him, glistening, _accusing_ , before Viktor’s world fell apart.

“My Yuuri,” Viktor breathes, as if the name itself is a prayer of adoration and reverence. And it is to Viktor. Was and always has been, from the day he fell swift and hard for his first and only love.

Yuuri clasps his hands together, pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s nervous, Viktor realizes, relieved that he’s not the only one.

“I didn’t think you’d come here,” Yuuri says softly.

Viktor’s heart seizes. “Have you been here all this time?” he gasps, hating the thought that, all this time, Yuuri had been so _close._ Had been visiting their meeting spot on his own, without Viktor by his side.

He releases his breath when Yuuri shakes his head.

“No, I - I only came today. When I…” Yuuri’s throat bobs in a swallow. “When I heard the news of your marriage.”

Oh. _Oh._ Of course he did. Viktor’s father made certain that the announcement went far and wide, to let all the lands know that the two kingdoms are on the road to joint prosperity - and the security of a future heir.

Reaching out, Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand, folds it in his. “I don’t love her,” he says. “It’s all a farce, a theatrical production for our parents and the people of our kingdoms.”

“She’s beautiful though,” Yuuri says under his breath, and Viktor wants to laugh then, wants to press his mouth to Yuuri’s. His beloved is _jealous_ , and that fills Viktor with more hope that he ever had in the last six months. But Viktor holds back. For he knows that he’s treading on eggshells, that this may just be his last chance to redeem himself for every foolish mistake he has made.

His last chance to get Yuuri to stay.

“She, too, loves another,” he tells Yuuri instead. Smiles as Yuuri lifts up wide eyes to meet his. “She is devoted to her handmaiden, Sara.” He hesitates. Then, throwing caution to the winds, brings Yuuri’s hand to his lips. “As I am with you.”

It turns out to be the wrong move.

“We can’t,” Yuuri says, tugging back his hand, cheeks flushed. “You know we can’t. You’ve seen my true form—”

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter to me—”

“It matters to my people,” Yuuri says sharply. “Humans attack our kind, hunt us for sport. For me to have so carelessly revealed my form to you…”

“I will protect you,” Viktor persists. “You and your people. When I am king—”

“You will have a family to care for,” Yuuri cuts in. His smile is soft but his eyes have gone red and wistful, brimming with so much tenderness that Viktor’s chest aches like a bruise.

“And I will finally, rightfully, be forgotten.”

Viktor swallows down the knot that rises into his throat. Three years they had been together; three years of love and warmth and happiness. Yuuri had appeared at the castle doors, trembling and injured, thrown against a tree mid-flight by a sudden gust of arctic winds. Viktor hadn’t known at the time, had thought Yuuri was attacked by bandits. Until he gave in to his wretched curiosity and peeked through a crack in the bathroom door, eager to learn Yuuri’s secret.

He never knew a crane possessed the expressive ability to look as pained as Yuuri did that night. On the floor laid a quilt, glittering and unfinished, woven with Yuuri's own snow-white feathers. A birthday gift, made for Viktor.

_I told you not to look._

Yuuri’s face, Yuuri’s words - they haunt Viktor to this very day.

Forgotten?

No, Viktor will never forget.

“Please,” Viktor begs. “Stay with me. I’ve missed you. I _need_ you. I sleep with your gift every night, and each time I just - I keep wishing it was _you_ inste—”

His words cut off when Yuuri’s mouth seeks out his, warm hands against his cheeks. The kiss is slow and deep, as if Yuuri is pouring all his love, his desire, his sorrow into it. As if he’s desperately memorizing Viktor’s face and lips before he leaves.

Viktor sighs, slides his hands to Yuuri’s waist and pulls him closer. Feels Yuuri’s heat, his shuddering breath, as he marks the line of Yuuri’s throat with teeth and tongue. He should have known; his beloved can be as obstinate as an old mule. No matter what Viktor says, no matter what he does—Yuuri won’t stay. So all he can do is remind Yuuri what he’ll be missing, give him a reason to come back. _I love you_ , says a press of their lips. _I’ll never forget you_ , says a bite to the dip of his neck.

“Viktor,” Yuuri whispers, voice catching when Viktor nips at the edge of a collarbone. “Stop.” Yuuri’s palm and fingers spread against his chest, pushes him back. “If I don’t leave now, I—”

Viktor kisses him one last time. So, so stubborn.

“I know,” he murmurs.

Yuuri exhales. Viktor can’t help but notice the way his breath shakes, the way his fingers rise to linger on the bruises in the shape of Viktor’s mouth.

“Goodbye, Viktor.”

A flash of blue, and the crane soars up into the sky, wings spread open and white. Vanishing into the distance with the rest of Viktor’s heart.

_Goodbye, my Yuuri._

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Japanese folklore, "Tsuru no Ongaeshi" (The Crane's Return of Favor).
> 
> Please check out my other fics [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rinsled05/pseuds/rinsled05/works) and come say hi on my tumblr @ [dreaming-fireflies](http://dreaming-fireflies.tumblr.com)


End file.
